I can get a little bit in my head about things.
Alright, I can get a lot in my head about things.
It’s gotten better with age–I’ve learned to rouse myself out of my inward spiral, take a look around, notice that birds are singing, bees are buzzing, and life is occurring all around me.
But I used to argue with ghosts all the time.
Not as interesting as it sounds. The people I was arguing with were still located firmly on this temporal plane, but the arguments existed solely in my head. Don’t worry, I was arguing both sides on account of fair representation and all. But it was exhausting. And then I’d be slightly put off by people that didn’t’ even know we’d been having an imaginary argument.
I also use the stellar powers of my mind to convince myself that something is too complicated to take on. Or that it will require more work than I have energy. Or that in some way I’m incapable of pullign off whatever scheme has crossed my mind.
The shorthand version of this is that what’s going on in my head sometimes makes me play small. Safe. I rationalize and strategize, staying to exactly what I know is not only possible but probable.
This is my default setting.
That’s why I love the feasibility stage so much. Everything feels possible. No dream is too outlandish. Owning a schoolbus & making it into a tiny home? Yes! Sign me up! Buying an old church and transforming it into a bookstore anchored Atlanta makers’ haven? Absolutely!
Writing every day? Creating something that real people will actually read? Oh, wait. Here’s where I start to equivocate…
I’m sure my knee-jerk equivocation is a mix of a lot of things: imposter-syndrome. Fear. And wanting to imagine myself into a place and simultaneously being cowed by the actual work it might take to get there.
Dreaming is low-stakes for me. Doing involves a lot more vulnerability.
But sometimes, something miraculous happens. I call it getting low to the ground, because that’s what it feels like. It needs better branding, because it’s amazing and empowering, but also a little mystical.
It’s not something I’ve ever been able to conjure up at will. It feels like being struck with clarity. At random. I’ll just be walking along (or sometimes driving, but always moving), and I’ll suddenly understand the very clear path I need to take to get to what I want.
This clarity always comes with a heaping helping of I’ve been overcomplicating things.
The hallmark of the Low to the Ground path is simplicity: being honest about what I want and taking the most practical, down-to-earth steps to get there.
I realize that this sounds incredibly mundane. But for an overthinker who gets in her own way by thinking everything to death, this is a bracing breath of fresh air.
Want to be a writer? Cool. Stop thinking about the layout of the fucking website and write words. Not words someone else might want to hear in a voice that might be clever or avante garde or what the hell ever else. Just write the plain, authentic truth. That’s all. Sort the rest out later.
See? It’s so obvious. But it involves moving from thinking constantly about the thing I could be doing into doing the actual thing.
Low to the ground involves believing I’m capable and dropping all the bullshit. It feels wildly possible and exponentially practical.
There’s a lot of magic in this space for me. It sets me free from the ways in which I hold myself back and rewrites the narrative about who I can be and how I can move through this world.
Low to the ground is getting clear on how to live capably and authentically, and with great love. Which beats the hell out of drifting through dreamland arguing with ghosts.